No Pill For The Apocalypse
by Good Question
Summary: Destiel End!Verse ; When angels fall, they fall hard and fast. How Castiel crash landed into the Apocalypse. Warnings: Drug use, violence, character death, etc.
1. Part 1

**Title: **No Pill For The Apocalypse  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:**Dean/Castiel,  
**Spoilers: **Through 5.04 "The End"  
**Warnings: **Drug use, character death, sex, violence, general end of the world stuff.  
**Summary: **When angels fall, they fall fast and hard.

**Notes; **I have no beta. :)

Castiel can not see the future. Trips into the past? Easy enough with a little bit of effort and a concussion when tumbling to the other side. The future, however, with its endless time lines and possibilities is a task he never did have the power for, not even when he was the perfect little soldier and with access to all of Heaven's might. It had never bothered him too much that only the higher angels were capable of manipulating complex time lines such as that. That that he could not rise up to that high of a power ranking.

But now it did, because maybe if he had been able to take visits into the future he could have changed something, maybe sowed Sam's mouth shut, ripped out his tongue, locked him in an angel proof panic room. Maybe if he'd been able to see the future he would have been more insistent in telling Dean to call his brother, to get back in contact with him. Every so often Cas had succeeded. Nights when Dean was too drunk to quite remember why he stopped talking to his brother anyway, and then in the morning it would all be back to normal with a little bit more anger attached and a threat that he would delete Sam's number permanently if Castiel kept pushing it. With a vacancy in Dean's life, Cas had taken it upon himself to assist in the hunts. Especially with how anger and copious amounts of alcohol could make one sloppy. Dean needed someone to watch his back.

Of course although Cas and Dean were essentially hunting together did not mean they were glued at the hip. Yes, he had become what Dean had admitted to 'his best friend' but he had other matters to take care of as well, especially now that Sam and Dean had separated he had to expend mass amounts of energy on a double watch to attempt to keep the angels from finding both brothers. This landed him bleeding in strange caverns and rooms with sloppy sigils drawn with his own blood more than once. These little adventures were not something he shared the details of to Dean. He always made sure to come back healed enough to fight, he was trying to make the man's life easier and not more complicated. Even though the host was trying to seal all of the access to Heaven from him, that couldn't fully happen as long as they were still walking the earth. That thought comforted him and he wasn't intending on falling anytime soon. Things were manageable for a little there.

And then it happened.

The rest of the world was oblivious to it, but with the connection he held with Heaven to his siblings, the sheer power that was pushed through that connection, when; _'Hello brothers and sisters. I am home'_ exploded through that connection- it ran Castiel through like a canon ball through the gut. He crumbled to the ground clutching at his chest eyes wide, panicked, and terrified. His ears were ringing and he could vaguely feel Dean rushing to kneel next to him yelling 'Cas' and trying to shake him out of his stupor. He let himself rest on his knees and palms and then lifted his head towards Dean who appeared down right terrified of whatever had just happened to him. Looking up into those panicked eyes Cas thought that he truly understood more emotions than he should've had the ability to feel. He felt a coward that instead of using words he decided to use his abilities. He figured Dean would have wanted to drive straight down to Detroit to see for himself and probably get them all killed immediately if he didn't share it metaphysically. So he lifted two gentle fingers to Dean's forehead and let him experience an echo what had just rocked his body. For the rest of that night, the little angel held onto the brave little human as he cursed, and yelled, and cried, and damned the whole world to hell.

That was six months ago. They were still searching for the colt, but now Dean had a new obsession and a much bigger drinking problem, so much so that Castiel had taken it upon himself to learn to drive the Impala. Dean was loath to leave it behind and had a generally dislike of flying. Castiel also took care of making sure the motel rooms were always paid for although they had not hunted in a long time. On one of the first nights that Dean was coherent enough to make conversation the only thing he had asked was "it's possible to leave a host, right?" And it was true, Castiel himself had been dragged forcefully out of his own vessel, taken another and then transferred back to his true vessel. So he answered as honestly as he could and as simply although he knew that if the conversation kept going it would not lead anywhere good. "Yes."

"Then we can drag him out right? Lucifer?"

"In theory."

After that Dean didn't speak for another several weeks as Castiel had slowly meandered them towards Bobby's compound. Cas of course had filled Bobby in immediately after it had happened and they shared a look as Dean stumbled in and raced towards the books. It wouldn't have helped to tell him that Bobby had already gone through those and that there was no book on earth for this situation. While Dean spent his days and nights in the study, passing out halfway through his binges and just starting it all up again the next day Bobby had pulled Castiel aside for a few pointers on what to do to prepare for the worst case, and most probable case, scenario now that Lucifer had his true vessel.

"So the angels still 'round?" Bobby asked as he wheeled himself to the table and handed Cas a beer. They both knew that it wouldn't do much for him but Castiel had learned to accept these small human habits as necessary and natural, it seemed to make them more comfortable around him. He had been learning a lot of new human things.

"Yes." Although conversational skills were still somewhat lacking.

"Figured if they were still 'round we would be hearing more white light destruction on the news," he commented as he took a swig.

Castiel considered this before forming his reply, " The Apocalypse is not something that occurs immediately or overnight as some of your movies have illustrated it. I do not quite recall how it was written in your books, but it is a slow build up. For the past few months Lucifer has been testing his new vessel," a small pause and a glance at Dean, "he is collecting his armies and playing out the small details that are required for his half of the story. I am sure that the angels are doing little things here and there but I would say most if not all, of my brothers and sisters are traditionalist's at best and at worst blindly obedient children without the abilities of critical thought for themselves. The only concept of right and wrong are our Father's word and which is not our Father's word. So they will follow the story as it was told."

Bobby cringed at this and shook his head, "Ya know, I liked the world a lot better when you could at least still have the angels to believe in as cracked as even that was." Bobby had never quite been a believer.

"Your Bible does tend to go awry on some details, I believe one term for it is 'sugar-coated.'"

"No kiddin'."

A brief silence passed, Castiel still not having learned yet how to perpetuate a conversation unless it had a clear start and an ending to reach.

"So, what's the next big blow to expect?"

Castiel took a small sip out of his own beer and rolled the flavor around in his mouth, he didn't quite understand why his human friends drank so much of this. It was a little bit bitter with an odd sweet undercoat that stuck to his tongue. There were so many flavors. Dean had described it as an acquired taste; he was still waiting to acquire it. "As in the breaking of Lucifer from his cage, there are seals that the angels and Lucifer's armies respectively will break to receive access to the powers to conquer the other side. As it so happens there are several pieces of prophecy that are locked up by our Father that need to be uncovered as well as weaponry. The major blow will come from what I believe you know as the Four Horsemen."

Bobby's beer slid from his hand to the table with a clink nodding.

"Although I have faith in my Father; I wonder if he foresaw how convoluted and messy things would be. At the very least it seems convoluted and messy to me. I do not understand why he would lock our weapons away as well if he truly intended to give us peace..." he tilted his head and stared at nothing for a brief moment as if the answers would appear on the peeling wallpaper, "Perhaps it is a necessary evil, I would venture to say a bigger picture occurring but I thought this was the bigger picture. You know there had been whispers by some of our more borderline fallen angels that maybe it was to give Lucifer a chance, since although God punishes he also loves unconditionally. Of course those whispers disappeared with the angels that gave those thoughts birth, Heaven is not a big fan of too much personal ideation," Castiel prattled on, finding in recent times that letting word roll of off his tongue in a torrent without any real purpose or direction once he did get started was strangely therapeutic, his head didn't hurt as much as with conscious thought.

"Thanks for the theology debate Cas but let's get back on topic, the four horsemen, how do we stop them for making Earth their personal playground."

Castiel snapped out of his little moment and stared at Bobby with almost sad eyes, "I am not quite sure. The Heavens are not meant to stop the Four Horsemen, that was not a part of the plan. They will run their course, after which more seals will be broken on our way to the 'final showdown'. I believe if we are being practical, the best we can do is to try and save as many people as possible as we move towards Hell on earth, I wish I could give a better answer than that but," he glanced at Dean, "there is one other option and I do believe we have all already ruled that out."

The hunter was still hunched over the desk pouring over different versions and translations of bibles, ripping out and compiling together any mention of angelic lore which really was not too much, a near empty bottle of Jameson in his fist. The point was still to try and save Sam; which they had all agreed on. Although they still did not know why the boy had said 'Yes' and while Castiel had brought up more than once that the probability of bringing Sam back was zero to none. To be fair they hadn't really ever spoken about any of that, Team Free Will and all that, eventually it had been brought up. Dean saying yes to Michael.

Dean had vetoed that immediately, saying that he was not going to do a 'damn thing' until he was sure there was no way to get Lucifer out of his brother's body and that he was sure as hell not going to play into the "heavenly dick squads" hands. So the world went on around them. Castiel understood however, and still had a hope that he clung to with Dean. That he was right and they were fighting for the right thing and the right way. They had always somehow managed to make long-shots work, the Winchester family had a knack for it, and Dean's was still the brightest and most heartwarming soul in all of Creation. Whatever Dean wanted, happened. And the world went forward a day at a time.

During the next half a year and some change, Castiel's abilities went through interesting fluctuations which he marked up to how well the angels were doing against Lucifer. Dean at this point had made a habit of running off, with a newly angel-protected Impala, after every single lead that he could find for ripping the devil from his brothers body, which was mainly ghost whispers and sweet misconceptions he took as truths.

In the meantime Bobby had enlisted Castiel in the planning and creation of a camp they had finally decided on. They were going to try building an intricate and much more connected network of hunters with small hubs in each more populate area to begin building. Maybe stand a chance of surviving the great show down were Michael to win. Already existing buildings were perfect, and with the spread of demons, the effects of the horsemen, and other natural tragedies the more secluded settlements of humanity had begun to disappear and become vacant for their purposes. Who knew that the apocalypse would be sneaky and fringe in from the secluded countryside's. Maps were drawn out of the largest abandoned camp compounds and the easiest ways to connect them, as well as if things got to the worst of their worst how they would get to supplies and what to begin moving into certain areas.

In addition to making preparations for this Bobby had started taking Castiel on the new version of hunts, trying to stop as much damage from leaking spreading and giving as many people as possible the fighting chance. It was taking its toll on the young angel.

On one of their brushes with War, brief as it was, Castiel had found himself in a need for new clothing, the battle having ripped his only set to shreds and he did not have the grace to waste on its repairs as he pulled himself and the hunters that had come with them from the infected area to crash land at Bobby's. He hadn't even had the energy to try and get the supplies they had left behind back. "What the hell?" was the last thing he heard one of the hunters say as he swayed and collapsed to the ground in front of porch. He had angel proofed the inside of the house, and there was only one way for him to enter and that was someone on the inside removing the seal to let him in temporarily and then locking the place up again, trapping him inside until it was removed once more. They were more hidden than anything, too strong of a protection sigil would boot him out of the building as well. They had joked about building him an angel wing of the house.

When he came to he was in a different set of clothing, it felt foreign to him and uncomfortable but that was not his biggest worry.

"Hey, look, the Christmas ornament is awake," one of the hunters said with a good natured smile, Castiel had long grown used to their little quips about his existence. At least most of the people he had met took his existence in stride as truth. It was odd that he now thought fondly of Dean's initial reaction to him, a knife through the chest.

Castiel sat up with a groan and nodded to the group of men. "I did not expect the landing to be quite so rough," he admitted as another man came forward and tossed him a beer.

"A little warning would have been nice, you damn near bounced Bobby out his wheel chair," the man laughed having shaken off the surprise of flying with angel air while Cas had been unconscious.

Castiel felt himself smile.

"Hey."

Cas turned his head towards the door to find his favorite human being standing there. Although he knew that Dean's hunts were not necessarily getting him anywhere, the trips had helped him focus on something. He was a little less drunk these days, and a little more focused. Sometimes they could almost pretend that the apocalypse wasn't happening. Although Castiel would never admit out loud to it, he knew that a part of the reason that Dean had begun to push himself back from his island of isolation was also because of the few dream trips that Castiel had let himself have in Dean's head, tweaking it with relaxed images instead of the constant hurricane of bad memories that generally plagued him at night. It was like dealing with a skittish horse and Castiel always made sure not to push it too far.

"Hello Dean."

Dean walked into the living room and shook hands and shared smiles with the other hunters as he went and got himself a beer settling down on a chair next to where Cas had been laying on the couch. "You look ridiculous."

Castiel looked down at himself. Ridiculous was not the word he had chosen to use at his new attire. Instead he frowned and asked where his usual clothing was.

Dean laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand, "You were practically naked apparently, when you landed. Not surprised, the amount of mojo it must've taken for you to escape a horseman with a handful of hunters in tow. Didn't leave any for your magic seamstress routine. They were thrown out before I got here."

Cas felt himself nod and frowned a bit pulling at the t-shirt he was wearing. He could tell they were Dean's old clothes. "Holy tax-accountant doesn't seem right for the apocalypse anyway I suppose." The first humor that Castiel had come to understand was dark humor.

Dean approached him that evening as he sat recovering in what had been created into his bedroom. He still did not require sleep he occasionally required a recharge. There was a knock on the door before he barged in. Judging by the somewhat languid movements Dean had found the whiskey. Castiel swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled out a bottle from the drawer next to his bed and poured himself and Dean a glass. Dean saw down next to Cas without a word and took the glass that had been offered and chugged it down. They sat like that in silence for a while, Cas refilling Dean's glass and Dean knocking them back.

"There's nothing powerful enough to rip Lucifer out of Sam's body is there?"

Cas glanced at the hunter and wrung his hands together, taking a deep breath. "Nothing that would be willing to do it." A bitter laugh escaped Dean.

"And Lucifer's not just going to volunteer to leave it is he?" Dean poured himself some more swaying a little bit. Cas almost wanted to take the bottle away from him but had a feeling it would just end up with a punch to the jaw and a broken wrist for Dean.

"Highly improbable."

And then Dean did something strange.

Castiel shut down his surprise as Dean's head planted itself firmly on Castiel's shoulder, cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of the shirt. He knew better than to ask Dean if he was 'all right', it would be a stupid question. So instead he sat there stone still, letting Dean collect within himself whatever he was trying to get out. He felt helpless and mournful, much like he had felt while sitting at Dean's hospital bedside all those years ago as he let tears slip at the weight on his shoulders.

"You know Cas," Dean slurred out with impressive enunciation for a man that intoxicated. "At least you're here."

Castiel blinked and stared down at the man, "Of course I am. Where else would I be?"

Dean laughed and used Cas's arm to push himself back straight, shaking his head, "It's really fuckin' sad that I'm pretty sure you mean that." He shook his head. "Nah man. I mean... like you're still you. A little rougher around the edges but still ya know... " at this Dean waved his hand around as if Castiel could fill in the blank.

"No I'm afraid I do not know."

"That!" Dean said lurching forward a bit and jabbing Castiel in the chest, Cas still didn't understand but at least Dean was smiling, so he didn't say anything else. Dean settled himself back against Castiel's shoulder.

Some of this he did understand, he had a vast knowledge what humans did and in what situations but comfort like this wasn't exactly Dean's regular behavior, and especially not towards another male or a comrade despite being best friends. Cas had found out a long time ago that he enjoyed being Dean's favorite of anything and was enjoying the unique touch he was allowed to experience. Dean's favorite angel, his favorite friend. "The world's really going to hell huh?" And those words sounded so defeated that Castiel reacted on an impulse he had kept tucked away inside of himself and reached a hand across Dean's shoulder and pulled him in. Human's enjoyed physical contact, correct? Instead of pushing him away or freezing up Dean relaxed a little and closed his eyes, shaking his head to himself. "And I started it."

"Dean, I believe we have had this conversation before. I have never, and still do not envy the weight upon your shoulders. You have the soul of a righteous man and that is not an easy soul to exist in. There is no blame, no guilt, no self-hatred that you should feel. No man could have lasted as you had. Destiny is a cruel and wicked thing with no care for the living little things that battle for the big picture."

"They said dad lasted for a hundred years," Dean murmured.

"Your father is not you, and I assure you no matter what the demons whispered to you, you did not go through the same hellish experience Dean. You can not possibly compare yourself to other people, or creatures even. Your forty years may well have been the equivalent of his hundred, or another's two-thousand. No one can understand that."

Dean looked up with a strange expression in his eye, inching his face further towards Cas's. "You do."

Castiel smiled and tilted his head to the side to better catch Dean's eyes. "Of course I do. I know your soul better than you know it yourself. I rebuilt you, atom by atom."

At this, Dean's eyes seemed to spark with a little more life, "And you're still here."

"And I'm still here," Castiel repeated after him, "and Dean Winchester, I will always be here. Because I believe in you."

"Oh Cas," Dean laughed, "you stupid little angel. Just like everything in my life, you'll break too." Dean's chest filled and roared with bitterness, anger, and a terribly gut wrenching sadness. Awful roils of emotions that felt like lighting streaking through his body had been lashing out at him every day of his life since the day everything went to hell for him. But at least there had always been a little safe place where things became a little calmer inside of him that he could sometimes reach, and that little place, sitting here next to Cas became a little more solid and the more Cas spoke the more that little safe place flared out fighting viciously against those emotions that made him feel sick. He had noticed a while ago that Castiel helped him feel not as sick, and had chalked it up as being an angel thing although he knew it not to be true.

Sober Dean would tell you he was desperate. Sober Dean would tell you that he just needed to see something else in his life fall, and making an angel fall would be perfect self-punishment. His favorite angel. Sober Dean would also probably tell you he was too wasted to realize that the person under him was a man, despite his very publicized appreciation of Dr. Sexy. But Sober Dean would also know better. He stared into Cas's eyes for a long time, contemplating some of the feelings and had a small moment of mourning for what this wonderful sense of loyalty and absolute caring would eventually do to the angel, but at the moment he had cared more about holding onto to that little life line that Castiel had always offered him and moved forward to latch onto it the only way he knew how. He was only human after all.

Dean reached up with his hand and slid his fingers into Cas' hair on the back of his neck, playing with the soft strands before using it to tug Castiels' highly confused face towards him and planting his lips snugly against the angels. Sober Dean would also not let on at just how surprised he was that he had actually enjoyed that contact the same way he had when he kissed a woman, it was a little rougher but the lips were just as soft, just as warm, and just as tasty. To Drunk Dean's luck, just as some strange explosions of what resembled shame and the wave of awkwardness that he was about to experience when he remembered just who he was kissing; Cas responded. It had taken him awhile to react, having gone through his infinite catalog of knowledge on kissing and getting over his apprehension to attempt it. It required much more work than he had thought to have his vessel respond correctly. He pulled back a little and placed his hands on either sides of Dean's face, still surprisingly smooth and un-scarred due to Castiel's healing abilities despite everything that had happened in the almost now year.

"Dean?" Castiel questioned, his eyes narrowing and brow knitting together in confusion, he did not want to take advantage of the man. Cas did not have a problem with this, he never would have. He was only vaguely aware of the concept of gender. The concept of a human gender binary baffled him and had known long ago that he loved the man in front of him. Especially living in a body without physical needs it had been easy for him to ignore the sexual component as well. Angels could of course have sex, but it was something more of a whim than anything that needed to happen. He had long ago analyzed and made an opinion of exactly what Dean would and would not do with him, but angels could make mistakes.

"Please don't talk, if you want this, don't talk," Dean mumbled, grabbing Castiels hands and pushing them away from his face so that he could go claim another kiss.

He did it softly again to gather the response but as the angel, as per command, kept his mouth shut and only pushed back gently and timid, he brought up his arms to Castiel's shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed. Sliding on top of him, amused at the confused look the angel shot him, he leaned down slowly, enjoying the way that his lips tingled every time Cas exhaled and the air brushed across them. Although he knew he would be running the show, he did not want to run the show with something unresponsive; he was happy to be getting any level of reaction from the angel underneath him. He figured that since Castiel had gone to his bed that he was drained enough to be more susceptible to human sensations the way they were normally experienced, or at least that was his hope as he put his theory to the test. He weaved fingers through Castiels hair again and tugged his head to the side, noticing the interesting break in Cas's breathing and the sharp inhale. Gaining confidence he leaned down and ran his tongue around the outside edge of Cas's ear, swirling it briefly into the small spiral on the inside and then nibbling on the soft skin. He pulled back to try something else, thinking that this wasn't something that was a particular turn on for the angel but went back to it once he saw Castiel's face. Those all knowing eyes were glistening, his face a little flush and his mouth hanging open slightly breathy; controlled but shallow. It was a start.

Dean dipped his head back down and tugged a bit harder on the angel's hair to angle him for better access. The nibbled his way along Cas's ear, dragging his tongue down from the inside and breathing softly into it. He dipped his tongue in and out, essentially ear fucking him, and finally got a small moan as a reward for his efforts. Dean let himself slide down a little and bit at Cas's neck just below his ear and was rewarded immediately with a small sharp intake of breath from the man underneath him and a low, quiet, short moan of pleasure. Smirking to himself he dragged his teeth down the angel's neck and bit a little harsher than he would have completely sober, into the hollow between Cas's neck and the shoulder. The angels hands flew up to grab Dean by his shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough to get through Dean's muddled brain for a second to look at the angel again. "Everything okay?"

Castiel nodded but held onto the hunter tightly. The concept of human interaction was one thing, to experience it was another, especially with his mojo so drained. Angels did not quite interact physically the same way that humans did, in fact the physical was more of an idea to them, the same way that the level that angel's existed on was more of an idea to humans. The most he had done in his vessel was a brief hug here and there, a touch of a hand on a shoulder. This, this was something else that left him confused and buzzing and not quite sure at all how to react, especially without him being able to experience more than he usually could. He felt very vulnerable. "I do not quite understand what is going on in my body," Castiel admitted, straightforward. Everything the hunter had done to him had just sent sharp little electric sparks around his body. At this Dean laughed and seemed to relax, a small part of his brain finally kicking back in and reminding him that 'oh shit, yeah, virgin.'

He glanced down the line of Castiels body and in his haze didn't hesitate to let his hand trail down and cup Cas's dick into his palm. He wasn't fully hard but he was getting there, and the little gasp from Cas and the twitch and pulse against his hand assured him that was he was doing felt good, and that he didn't have to stop. He looked back at Castiel smirking, "You're turned on."

The concept confused him, what was turned on? He didn't think that humans had some sort of physical switch but vaguely figured this was probably another one of those human statements he was taking too literally. Dean straddled him and ground his hips against him, taking Cas's hands in his own and letting them rest on his hips knowing he would need something to hold on to and probably had no idea what to do with his hands anyway, this seemed like an easy out.

Dean watched in drunken amusement as he rocked slowly, Cas starting to nibble at his lip every time Dean's ass slid over his now hard cock. Had Castiel ever even been hard before? Dean wondered. He didn't think the angel masturbated, that seemed a little like unholy behavior even to him (although hot, very hot), but there has to have been some time the angel had found something he was attracted to. Now he was thinking too much to concentrate on what he was doing. He was still lazily loving on Castiel, slow grinds his own breath getting more shallow, leaning down to pepper Castiels neck with more bites and kisses, but there was one thing for drunken sex, and another for completely smashed introspective sex, which was usually fine if the other partner was more aggressive but that didn't seem to be in the cards at the moment with Castiel so overwhelmed with whatever was going on in the angels brain at the moment.

"Thinkin' thing needsta stop," he mumbled out loud his eyes finally starting to blur a bit, his body catching up to the fact that he was in fact royally smashed. Alcohol always won, it was just a matter of when.

"Dean?" Castiel asked unsure as the hunter swayed slightly above him, with a small pout on his lips. The confusion pulled him out of his own body enough to manage to sit up, tugging Dean with him into his arms, and wrapping them around him tightly. Hugs he had gotten down, hugs he knew. Dean nuzzled into his neck and leaned into the angels chest. His mouth was still sending pleasured sparks of fire through Castiel's neck down along his body but they seemed less... hurried now than they had been, although Dean had taken his own sweet time when he had started. "You are very drunk," Castiel observed plainly not knowing quite what else to say at the moment.

"Only a little," Dean replied slurring the l's in the word, breath hot on Cas's neck.

That was when Castiel decided he needed to do more research into the parts of human life that weren't purely practical. That Castiel needed to learn more of these human motions, especially when he had found one that he quite liked. He preferred it definitely to his little experiment of eating and pain and bug bites. But he had none of that at his arsenal at the moment so he did what he could do. He mimicked what Dean had done to him earlier, and moved his hand from around Dean's back to the back of his neck, although the hair was terribly short towards the back to he could still somewhat twine his fingers through into it. He pulled the hunters head back and felt a warm surge of pride in himself and Dean made a satisfied noise in his throat letting himself be pulled up. Castiel gripped tighter and watched as Dean's lips parted, and his eyes slid half closed, another satisfied groan lifting from his throat. He leaned forward as he pulled Dean's face in closer and placed his mouth at Dean's neck biting and nipping as Dean had done, it was a very active way of learning. The harder he bit and the more he let his tongue swirl around the little dip in Dean's shoulder the more of those noises that sent that unfamiliar fire through him he got. Castiel found he rather liked this. He was vaguely aware, as he brought his face back up and decided to test out kissing again (this time with the experimental additions of his tongue sliding along the hunters lips; Dean seemed to enjoy it on his skin well enough), that one of the arms around him had left and was sliding down between them. Cas rolled his hips a little as Dean had done, although it was a little more difficult in this sitting up position, and nibbled at Dean's lower lip as the man sucked in a sharp tug of air. Cas was finally getting the hand of it as Dean's hand fumbled with their zippers, Cas pushing himself closer to Dean's hand every time it brushed against him, when Dean stopped and pulled back, leaving Cas breathless and confused for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

"Dean, I don't understand, what?"

Dean's eyes were still swimming in that drunken stupor, some of the sadness melted out of them, a dark humor filling them now. Dean pointed down with a sigh and a 'oh fuck my life' type of laugh, "Whiskey dick."

Castiel's eyebrows scrunched up as he tried to understand this new terminology, he was learning a lot tonight, fighting against the beating of his heart and the heat that Dean had created between them.

"I still do not understand what the liquor has to do with male human anatomy."

Dean shook his head to himself and laughed once again, somewhere between the last of him spiraling into the last of the alcohol and the sober part him trying to run after it nausea and a headache in tow. "Dun' worry 'bout it Cas," he said lazily, eyes starting to droop as the world began to spin a little. "Stupid human shit."

This, was another thing Castiel understood. He had spent enough nights around Dean as he binged and the other hunters to know that Dean needed water and food, and then bed. Assuming that Dean would not feel offended if Castiel stopped what they were doing he helped the hunter roll off of him and gently propped him up against the headboard of the bed. "I will return shortly, you need sustenance," he said gently, pulling back.

"I don't need no sassy-tence," Dean slurred out pulling Castiel back in towards him. "I need me an angel," he whispered into Castiels ear, nibbling at it again.

Cas rolled his shoulders to gain more control of himself and pulled Dean back and nibbled on his lower lip, Dean's mouth opening for him and his tongue sliding across the underside of the angels upper lip, trying to get him to open up. Instead Castiel pulled back and smiled, "You have an angel. I will be back." He said pulling out of Dean's weakening grasp and heading downstairs to get him something to eat. It would have been much easier if he was fired up enough just to fly himself to the kitchen but he figured Dean could handle himself for five minutes. He gathered up a bottle of water from the pantry and a packet of salted crackers that he had been assured were some of the best neutral things to feed a drunken man to make sure it wasn't too heavy or flavorful that it triggered wretching.

By the time Castiel had reached his own room and bumped the door open with his hip it wouldn't have mattered what he had picked out. Dean had passed out, having slid down from the headboard and sprawled himself across most of the bed, mouth hanging open and snores filling up the room. A gentle smile graced Cas's lips as he walked over, setting the food and water on the other side of the bed on the table there for Dean to have in the morning. He knew the basics of what was pleasurable for human sleep and gently stripped Dean, taking time to admire the body underneath. He left Dean's boxers on knowing that he preferred to sleep in them (although Castiel had discovered for himself he enjoyed sleeping without any clothing on) and maneuvered him as best he could under the blankets. He turned the light off and stripped down himself, and lifted the other side of the blanket, crawling into bed and separating the two pillows he had so that he and Dean could each have one instead of the tower he usually used. He still didn't have a perfect grasp on human etiquette, especially with males sleeping together in the same bed as it had never come up, but he left the respectable personal space distance that he could between them. He stayed that way, edged to bed for most of the night until his need to recharge finally pulled him into a half-conscious state, as his body relaxed and rolled a little further back from the frigid straight line on his side that he had held himself in.

Dean woke up the next morning brain hammering against his skull even before he could form the conscious thought of 'I'm awake'. He couldn't decipher what time it was, the room was dark and for that he was grateful. He groaned as the pressure behind his eyes turned into a sharp sting and pushed his arm into them to try and make it go away. His other hand groped around near where he assumed his night stand was only to realize that he was sleeping rather far away from where he usually wedged himself. Grumbling he inched himself forward, attempting to open his eyes and then shutting them tightly as the extra light stung. He finally felt solid wood connect with his finger as they slid down to open the drawer and grab another. The best cure for a hangover. His frown at the world deepened as he fumbled around inside of the drawer and did not find his usual stash and instead came to touch a gun he knew wasn't his. Taking a deep breath to ready himself he forced his eyes open, letting them swim a little bit. He saw a figure at the corner of the room at a dresser pulling on a pair of pants over a well shaped ass. Something about him seemed very familiar. Dean's eyes were still blurred from sleep as he tried to rub at them to clear it up. The figure turned towards him and walked around to the side of the bed he had scooted himself away from, picking up something from the table next to it and bringing it over, sitting down gently in the space that was left open from the gap between his hips and the end of the bed.

"Water, advil, crackers," a familiar gravely voice said.

"Cas?!" Dean said as his eyes sprung wide open, taking in the room briefly, as well as noting he was only in boxers and a glance towards the ground at the shirt Cas had been wearing last night. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his bed.

"Here, sit up, you were quite intoxicated last night. I have water and food, and pain killers, is there anything else needed for a hangover?" Castiel replied holding out the mentioned items in his hands towards Dean.

Grumbling and his brain not quite functioning yet he grabbed the items and sat up with a groan. He felt very sore and blearily looked around the room. Okay, drunk, that was one part of the puzzle. His head ached as he tried to get the rest of his brain to catch up with the rest of the clues. Oh. Drunk. Bed. Keeping a small bit of panic down as certain thoughts popped up in his head he looked for alternatives.

"Sorry if I kicked you out of your bed last night, must've been pretty smashed to just pass out," he said hoping that he had just become obscenely hammered and then crawled into a bed he thought was his own, although he vaguely remembered walking in here to talk.

"You were very smashed, and you did pass out eventually, but you did not kick me out of my bed, we were both comfortable as far as I could perceive," Castiel replied evenly standing up, content that Dean was going to eat and picking his shirt off of the floor.

A swarm of butterflies, tho' the speed at which they were batting at the inside of his stomach made it feel more like a swarm of wasps, gripped Dean as he sputtered around the sip he had just taken. Two guys could totally sleep next to each other in bed. 'Comfortable.' He thought. 'Passed out eventually.' Still completely normal behavior. His head hurt more. Instead of focusing on the uncomfortable thoughts racing through his brain he tried to find a distraction from the conversation. "Since when do you keep a gun next to your bed?" he grumbled out stuffing his face with crackers, swallowing them down and wincing as they scraped down his throat, better than thinking about the feelings swimming around in him.

"Since I am unable to smite things when my energy has been drained. I was informed by your fellow hunters it was probably best to keep one on hand for those situations," Castiel explained pulling the shirt on over his head.

Dean stared cautiously at him for a little too long, causing small lines of confusion to spread over the angels face. Castiel leaned in with curious eyes to try and discern what was wrong, it was not just a hangover. Dean really wished he hadn't, because as the angel got closer his eyes darted to the skin that was exposed by the droop of the t-shirt (one of Dean's again, a bit too large for Cas's small frame) and saw the little red marks that ran up from just above the collarbone and up his neck. If Dean had had less of a bravado to hold onto he might have made a panicked squeak, instead he set his jaw tight, took a deep breath through his noise (which he regretted immediately with Cas so close to him, because the way he smelled was awfully familiar), and leaned back trying to pull his eyes away from the marks.

Confused Castiel traced where Dean's eyes had rested and the sudden sense of anxiety that had erupted from what he saw. 'Oh,' he thought. He hadn't even noticed that Dean's lips had left marks on his skin. He found he enjoyed that, it reminded him of the hand print singed into Dean's bicep. He smiled to himself, a little pleased and ran a tentative finger over them. Dean coughed nervously at this his own face trying to figure out an expression to make. He tried to joke about it. "Have a bad run in with a straightener?" That was an excuse girls used right? For hickies?

Castiel tilted his head and shook it, "No, I believe the human word for these is..." he paused and scanned his head, Dean had a brief mental image of the angel typing something into a search engine and hitting 'go', it almost amused him enough to make him smile. Almost. "Hickies."

Dean's breath screeched to a halt and water spilled over the rim of the water bottle he had been clutching. His brain scrambled for any escape rope to hold onto to. Weakly he laughed trying for nonchalant but failing, "Haha, oh. Our angel finally get rid of the big 'v'? Congrats."

"No, we didn't get that far," was Castiel's deadpanned response.

Two things happened to Dean at once. A simultaneous heart attack from the word 'we' and the defibrillation that followed by the words 'no'. He was luckily saved from having to respond to that by someone calling for Cas downstairs. With a quick glance at Dean who tried to put on his best 'I'm fine just fried from the alcohol' face, and disappeared out the door. He was also saved from any of his immediate thoughts and his brain rattling too hard but the nausea coiling up in him from the hangover. Water would do no good now, it would just give him something else to throw up. He made a dizzied way over to the bathroom and for the first time felt grateful to have a violent roar in his head and a burning in his throat. First time he was grateful for a hangover so that he didn't have to think. The apocalypse really did turn shit upside down.

When he managed to get himself sobered up enough to put himself into the shower, clean off, dash into his room for a new set of clothes without any notice from anyone, and downstairs his nerves about waking up in Castiel's bed slipped away at the expressions the people in the kitchen were wearing. Bobby looked up at him as he walked in confused.

"St. Louis just got blasted off the map," Bobby said grabbing a beer and throwing it in his direction.

Numbly Dean caught it with practiced reflexes and popped it open. There had been battles and pain and suffering so far but it had yet to have reached this scale of annihilation. There were only two other people in the room, Cas and Yagger. Yagger grabbed the remote and flipped on the small TV they had set up in the kitchen. Blasted off the map had not been just a phrase Bobby had chosen to use, satellite pictures raced across the screen all of them showing a huge crater with a destroyed blast radius of several smaller cities around it.

"I believe... we may have to move more expediently on our refuge camp plans, there after effects will be unpleasant." Castiel said absentmindedly, staring at the screen.

The next year was just that. Well, not only that. Cas helped out mainly with the creation of the camp and networking, bouncing between cities faster than anyone could drive and transporting people, information and spplies. Dean spent half of his time at the camp and the other half on missions, training people he could having abandoned the quest, at least temporarily that he could beam Lucifer out of the body. It was hectic, and rushed, and none of it easy.

Especially for Cas.

Maybe if the world hadn't been churning so quickly, maybe if they had all assumed that as an angel Cas was invincible, and maybe if Dean hadn't been running from that night with Cas and how little he could remember of it, they would've noticed the little angel over-extending himself. Castiel had just finished blasting them through a hot wave of demons flooding into the New York City metro, leaving a crumpling of half burned bodies behind, their eyes burned out, reaching the top of the landing and grabbing a hold of the three crumpled men on the ground and concentrating on the physical nature of the boxes they had been protecting to make sure they all made it back to the camp fine. They landed with a crash and a skid, there were shouts from the other people in the camp. With a little bit of research and digging they had been able to modify some of the angel seals to be mostly angel proof but not Cas proof, most of the people there we used to the crashes. Bobby wheeled himself over to the new comers, one of them being a scared and sputtering Chuck (how he had ended up in New York was anyone's guess at that point but they were just glad they finally pin pointed the prophet.)

"Hey," he said weakly nodding to Bobby. He'd never met the man but of course knew who he was. He let go of the chest that he had been crumpled over and moved it closer to the approaching group.

"Where's Cas?" Bobby asked gruffly as the other two hunters, Darren and Ricky moved to help the other figure up, making sure the boxes hadn't cracked and let out the cursed objects they held.

"I think there were still some guys down in the metro," Chuck gasped out, throat dry, he smiled gratefully as someone handed him a water bottle. "Pretty sure he went back for them."

Sure enough not soon after there was a loud thud next to them and two other hunters appeared in the dirt, disheveled and dirty but otherwise looking quite hole. "I miss vampires," one of them said wistfully, rolling onto his back. They were only so many demon killing knives to go around, and only one smitey angel. They shared a grim laugh and the man turned around to try and thank Cas for coming back for them, they had agreed the cursed objects and the prophet were a priority. "What the hell?"

They looked around confused, an uneasy feeling settling between them. "CAS?!"

Chuck struggled up, his visions hadn't been quite as clear since the apocalypse had started, most of it too much to handle and mainly just people dying, and this was one of those moments where he wished he had been more clued it and the visions clearer.

"Cas!?" They spread out looking for him, spreading across the forested area that was still left inside of the camp and going around the remnants of old wrecked cars that had barely made it to the camp after a skirmish.

"Oh no," Chuck whispered as he came upon a crumbled figure with its head smashed through an old silver Honda's windshield. "Hey," not loud enough, "HEY GUYS. FOUND CAS!" He moved forward through the overgrown grass and winced as his shoes cracked pieces of glass underneath him. "Oh no," he whispered again shaking his head, gently moving to the other side.

Shockingly his head wasn't completely cracked open and his brains leaking out, but that didn't make it any better. Castiel's head had stopped moving forward when it had hit the steering wheel, sharp jagged pieces of glass embedded in his head and blood leaking freely across his face. That seemed to be the worst of the damage as he gingerly reached out a hand to try and see if there was bleeding anywhere else. There was, he winced as he saw what appeared to be a small piece of bone sticking out from the shirt at his chest, at least one of his ribs had broken and smashed through his skin upwards, which was a better alternative than into his lungs.

"You found him? Where is h-" the words died down in Bobby's throat as he stopped before the grass tied up the wheels of his wheelchair and held his breath. Now this, had never happened before. He had been tired, weak, but never so out of it that he had crash landed in quite that matter, especially when he had somehow managed to get all the other boys back safely. "MEDIC!" he yelled out to the approaching group, nodding to each other was one of the took off. "Check the damage," he barked at one of the approaching men. They pushed Chuck to the side and started to separate Castiel's broken body from the car.

**A/N: **Dusting off the cobwebs from this story and re-publishing it. Originally written a few years ago.


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Several hunters had responded to the urgent yell but most stood still. They waited until their resident doctor could be nearby so that they didn't hurt Cas any more while trying to pry his skull out from between the broken glass and the cracked steering wheel.

"What the hell went wrong?" Bobby asked as he stared from his position a little further off.

He made a mental note to have the grass cut, or burned out of existence completely. He turned to look at Chuck with an expectant face. All he got back was a shrug and a look that screamed panic and a need for an alcoholic beverage. There was a small crowd starting to gather around them which only irritated the man more. "Move it you idjits! We can't get him moved with ya'll gawkin' and crowdin' him like it's a damn parade!" he shouted at them and although they didn't disperse they cleared a path that they could get him through.

Yagger and Donald tried to prop up Cas's body as gently as possible as the doctor attempted to get in close to the large shards of glass sticking out of his head. There was a tremendous amount of blood loss and if it had been anyone else he would've declared them dead on the spot; if they weren't already dead. The head trauma alone would have them gone within minutes. Their camp angel seemed to be breathing still and angel physiology was a little different he assumed, although he knew very little about it.

"Move him very slowly, I don't want to remove the shards just yet until we're in the controlled environment of the hospital wing. It could cause more bleeding." They all nodded at him and slowly turned Cas around, prying him away from the wreckage and the bent metal, laying him on a stretcher someone had remembered to bring. As they made a hurried pace towards the hospital compound Chuck and Bobby vaguely heard "Does anyone know his blood type?! He's lost too much!"

Chuck held his arms close to his body and bit his lip in worry. There was something he'd never thought he would witness, an angel needing a blood transfusion because he couldn't repair himself. It was an almost poetic addition to the soundtrack of the apocalypse, if it weren't so awful.

"Well?"

Chuck jumped a little, clutching at himself tighter having been spooked by Bobby's voice. "Well what?"

"Angel boy's blood type, do you know it? You're a prophet right, you're supposed to know everything about these guys?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"No I'm afraid not. These types of things don't really come up in the visions. And we'd be looking for Jimmy Novak's blood type, Cas technically doesn't have one," Chuck answered with a sad shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not sure I would remember or wrote down in the books contact information to his family either. Last time I had a vision with them in it was when Cas took back Jimmy's body. Although the visions are coming less and less they haven't been in them since."

"Damn it," Bobby cursed slamming a fist down onto the armchair of his two wheeled hell trap.

He sighed and grabbed the edges of the wheels and began to follow the slow trail to the hospital room, shooing people away and telling them to get back to work on the way. "We can do one thing tho', before you get yourself cozy. Go grab my phone from the cabin to the far right over there, that's mine. We don't have internet or anything here but maybe we can get Dean to work some magic and get to that info."

Chuck nodded and ran to grab the item in question. Bobby wheeled his way up the ramp that had been attached to every camp building and stopped before the door, not going in. "How's it going in there Whiskey?"

"I'd tell you if I had any clue," the doctor replied as two nurses and another doctor bustled about with trays and towels and water. "So far we've safely removed three of the shards from his head but there is still a massive field of smaller shards embedded in his upper torso, arm, and along his neck as well as the last two shards that slid neatly under his skin severing some of scalp. Foxtrot's done the best she can with the smaller pieces, but." He shook his head. "Then we have to get in and stop the bleeding along his chest, I don't see more broken bones but judging by the flow something may have splintered into his lungs. I'm really kinda out of my pay grade here tho'. "

Bobby gave a short nod, not like he had been expecting anything else for an answer. Angels were complicated to begin with and the team they'd sent out to try and heard more medical supplies hadn't come back yet. Filching them from hospitals was easy with so many places getting abandoned but it was hard to find something that hadn't been touched by Pestilence's influence. They needed more doctors in the camp too. Whiskey could stitch up a few cuts, remove a few nasty things but he'd mostly worked pediatrics. Foxtrot was their resident surgeon though her specialty was with cancer patients.

Bobby gave the remaining hunters a few instructions to get to securing their items and to get the camp whispers under control. Cas had been banged up before but nothing quite like this. Panic was the last thing they needed. Chuck came running up behind him and dropped the phone into Bobby's lap in his haste to give it to him. He only gave the squirrely prophet a raise of his eyebrow before dialing Dean's number.

"_What?"_

"Well that's one way to answer the phone. Now shut up and listen. This is urgent. Cas is hurt, bad. We don't know what happened or why but he just plummeted out of the sky and managed to bang himself up straight into a car. We need you to get Jimmy Novak's medical history, specifically his blood type. Dunno how much time we have or if we'll even need it but better safe than sorry. We've got -" he glanced at Foxtrot who was holding up a bag at him "-one more universal donor left. Medical team hasn't gotten back yet."

"…_. What the hell happened?!" _came the angry and poorly disguised panicked voice on the other end.

"I just told you we don't know knucklehead. Now shut up and get that information, Whiskey here has a feeling that we may be needing to refill him with how much he's losing but we need to know what to give him."

"_God damn it!" _was the last thing out of Dean's mouth before he slammed his phone shut.

A few states away, Dean had been busy exploring a lead about the colts location, would always help to have it. At first they'd bounced around other ideas, Bobby even bringing up the other pantheons. Dean couldn't say he'd ever had a run in with a god of a different flavor but Cas assured them that they were real. He also assured them that they would either stay out of it for their own sake or fight on their own. Bobby had wondered about a coalition, getting a fighting force back against Lucifer. Castiel had told him he could find a devout practitioner and ask them to pray on their behalf but highly doubted it would work. Dean had never asked if anything had been done about it. He assumed not since cities were still burning to the ground and people destroying each other at whim. So, he searched for omens and the colt. He'd had to take the long way round to a potential source. Rumor mill said War was busy marching towards them from California and not even Dean wanted to tango with him alone. What hunters they'd managed to rope into believing the universe was ending and Lucifer was walking the earth he tended to leave at camp or on supply runs. They needed to prepare.

He felt like throwing his phone across the dingy motel room as his body became ice cold and his palms started sweating. How the hell was he going to get that information? What the hell had happened to Cas? He was going to kill him the second he got back to the camp, providing he wasn't dead first. He ran his palms through his short hair and looked around the room with wide eyes trying to calm the hammering in his heart. "Okay, get it fucking together Dean. You're a seasoned hunter not some fucking kid. Fucking think."

He reached over and got a tumbler out of the cabinet and poured himself a nice strong cup of bourbon. How did they usually get medical information? He paced around the motel until he stepped out, going to the trunk of the Impala and digging out his suit. Medical information was always available to agents, especially in these times. Lots of places didn't even check badges anymore if the request seemed urgent enough. "Knew you could do it Dean," he told himself with a tense smile, just like any time they've ever needed any information.

He would just find the closest hospital, ask them to make some calls and bam, Cas would be ok. Dean dressed himself as fast as he could, took a look in the mirror to make sure that he was at least somewhat presentable and tore off in the direction of a large hospital he had seen on his way into the town. Even though he had finally gathered a plan his palms would not stop sweating and he couldn't shake off the clammy feeling that was taking over his body. He had shoved Cas in a neat little box and stored it away for later examination, even if he never intended for a later to happen. That little box was slowly getting scooted from the shelf to the forefront as he scanned his memory for reasons this could've happened. As far as he had been filled in, it was just a routine pick up and retrieval. Yes Chuck had been involved so that had made it more complicated but still, it had taken forever for them to find the prophet so the hoards of hell should've had the same issue. And Cas could handle a few demons.

Had they run into angels?

That was always an option but through their brief conversation, before the plan to fly him down had been created, Cas had made it seemed like the angels had bigger things to worry about than Chuck or a renegade angel. Then again, who said Heaven didn't have a hate on for a soldier abandoning his post in the biggest prize fight since ever.

He slammed the steering wheel with his palm in anger as the box began to bust at the corners, unfolding everything out and into his brain as he drove. He should've paid more attention to Castiel, because there was a good chance this was related to his relatively mortal lapses. Had they been occurring more often? He couldn't quite remember. Dean bit his lip as he cut off what few cars were on the road, trying to make it faster. If Cas died that would make it the third fucking time that the little tax accountant would have kicked the bucket and he didn't feel confident at all that he would be zapped back this time. God was either gone or busy. Another cold chill washed over him. _Cas might not make it. _

Three blasted through red lights later the Impala screeched to a halt in front of the main general hospital. He hopped out of it flashing his badge at an approaching officer attempting to tell him that he couldn't park there and rushed in through the doors and stopping at the nearest front desk. "Turner, FBI. Listen, this is kind of an emergency I need someone's medical information asap Miss," he glanced at her name tag "Rosanna."

The nurse blinked at him confused, stuttering for a few moments before raising her eyebrow at him. "Can I see that ID again please?"

Dean cursed at handed it to her, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as she examined it. He sighed in relief as she handed the ID back to him seeming satisfied. "I'll see what we can do, what is the name?"

"Jimmy," he paused for a second forgetting the vessels name. "Jimmy Novak." The nurse nodded and started typing. "I'm sorry sir, we don't have a Jimmy Novak in our system."

Dean ran another nervous hand through his hair, this was taking too long. "I know he's not, but I need access to the file. I thought you guys could get in contact with each other and get it sent from wherever his files are located."

The nurse shook her head with a confused look on her face, "I'm sorry sir that's not really how it works. We'd need to know what hospital we're requesting the information from and then have it faxed here."

Dean cursed and spun around frustrated, stomping through the entrance hall and back outside to his car, ignoring once again the officer on duty who tried to question him. He peeled out of the parking lot and dialed Bobby.

"_You got the info? He's not doing so hot and we don't want to make it worse by giving him a blood type he can't handle. We don't got a lot of donations anyway. Foxtrot said we'd be lucky if we had his blood type still on hand." _

"No I don't have the fucking information. I got to the hospital and the stupid fucking nurse told me that they don't just have some mass system with medical information. I figured FBI would get me in but the damn thing doesn't even exist. How the hell am I supposed to know what hospital Jimmy went to?"

There was a sigh on the other line, _"You idjit! You're pretending to be an FBI agent, just go to the station and request it. Just give them a good story and you'll have access to all the files pronto."_

Bobby listened to the dull beep of the phone that told him the line had been disconnected. He shook his head and sometimes wondered why the Winchester line of men just had no god damn sense. Sam had had the most, and he'd ended up holding hands with Lucifer. He was roused from his thoughts as Chuck stepped out from the surgery room.

"How is he?"

"Uhm… not good. He's hanging in there the doc said but I don't know much more. They've got everything on stand by the second we get the info but he's really running out of time, I think. I don't know, he's really pale but we can't tell if he's healing or not or replenishing his blood. We don't know anything, they're stitching up his head right now, they're worried the head trauma will leave him in a coma IF he survives," Chuck said stressing the if and sitting down a bench that was set up out on the porch.

"Dean'd better hurry," Bobby muttered as he passed the small flask he owned to the prophet. "Any news from the angel network?"

"Nothing. Last few whispers I heard was when they released the four horsemen. Since then it's just been random little screams and flashes of some of their fights." Chuck said as he took a swig. He flinched at the memories. A few nights he'd woken up shaking from the onslaught of battle in his brain. They were losing heavy hitters, and fast. They were scared. "They're keeping pretty quiet. I think it's 'cause maybe when they broadcast Satan gets it too? I dunno." He handed the flask back to Bobby.

"That sure is helpful as all hell," he responded shaking his head and taking another swig. They sat in silence, having nothing more to say, passing the flask back and forth. Bobby's phone rang finally after what seemed an eternity. "Yes? AB-; damn. Just had to be one of the rarest blood types didn't it. Call you when we know more." He turned to Chuck with a small wave towards his wheelchair, "I'm a little slow these days, could you go tell the good doctor the news?"

… … … …

It seemed a little harder to breathe than it should have. And it was dark, very dark. Everything felt hazy and it felt like the world was spinning and tilting and it was awful. It felt like his heart was about to explode. And then, Cas was gone again.

Whiskey walked out of the surgery room wiping his hands clean of blood. He stepped out of the cabin, it was in the late AM's at this point but Bobby and the prophet, Chuck he remembered his name being, were still there drinking quietly. They both looked up at this entrance. "We got lucky. Real lucky. I feel it would be redundant to say he's got an angel watching over him. Last bag went to him. He's got a little more color on him than five hours ago. There was a hole in his lung, small but enough to nearly collapse his lung. A lot of his bones were shattered or broken, we've got 'em on splints. All of the shards have been removed, if he were a normal human being he'd have scars for the rest of his life but with him we don't know. I will also add that with the amount of head trauma he received, Foxtrot thinks he might not wake up." Chuck's face dropped as Bobby grunted in response, watching the doctor start to walk away, "Oh, and we'll need a supply run. We used most of our resources on him. I also suggest we stock up on more blood and expand on our little excuse for a hospital wing. If angels are dropping I fear we'll be dealing with worse soon."

Before they could discuss it any further they noticed headlights in the distance driving up to the camp.

"Dean?" Chuck asked.

"Could be, we don't know. He shouldn't have gotten here this fast tho'," he mumbled taking his gun out of his holster and wheeling down the ramp and towards the gates they had put around the compound. Chuck shadowed him closely. "Who is it?!" Bobby yelled up at the few higher towers they had set up for watch of the border.

"Looks like the Impala!"

Bobby and Chuck shared a look and got closer to the gate. They had system. No one could come in without being checked over first. To start with they had etched a huge devil's trap into the ground and that had to be driven through first. Dug up with concrete poured and dirt shoveled over it. Around it in a bigger surface area was an angel warding sigil so that they couldn't get in through a person they possessed. Bobby stared at the modified sigils and wondered if that's what had brought Castiel crashing down. They'd figured that the modified version would keep him safe but it was all speculation.

There was also a little way station, buckets or hoses filled with holy water, silver knives on the ready. Although they'd heard talk, and Cas had told them that the purge would include most every creature, that Lucifer was clearing out a lot of the regular flavor monsters it didn't hurt to be safe. They watched as Dean stepped out of the Impala holding his hands up, letting himself be cut with silver and go through all the other basic tests. Everyone in the camp had at least one scar, more depending on how often they left and re-entered, and mandatory tattoo's. He stepped back and as they opened the gate and drove the Impala in, not bothering to move it much more past the point where they could close the gate before sprinting out of it towards them.

"Cas?!" he said breathing heavy as he stopped in front of them, letting the worry and concern seep into his features.

"Stable," is all that Bobby got out before Dean took off towards their medical area disappearing in through the door.

The first thing that Dean registered was that the place smelt awful. That sickly sterile smell that all hospitals had. He nodded hello to Foxtrot, still left attending, and stepped into their little rest room. It had been a cafeteria for the original camp grounds once. It didn't take him long to find the angel, there was only one bed in use and it had partially drawn curtains around it for privacy. He stepped forward with determination and drew them back, clutching to the curtain tightly as he tried not to punch something with what he saw lying in that bed. 'This isn't Cas' he thought numbly as he stepped closer to bed, looking at the broken and beat up man nestled in blankets on the bed. 'Cas would never get hurt like this, he's an angel. Angels' don't…' he rubbed his palms against his tired eyes and found a chair to pull over next to the bed. He sat there staring for a good hour before he heard the squeak of wheels coming towards him.

"Got Chuck settled, we've been hashing out something for him to do while he's staying at the camp. We figured inventory and management would be a pretty good spot for him," he said in a quiet voice, trying not to spook Dean. The boy may have had walls of stone and steel but he had also raised the kid, he knew those shoulders and those white knuckles, he was not in a good place. Dean didn't even respond, just gave Bobby a quick dart of eyes and then focused back on the bed.

A few moments of agonizing silence passed before Dean finally spoke, "What'd Whiskey say?" His hands shook where he had them grasped together, preparing for the worst.

"Short version is he's stable, no clue what's going on with angel healing, and he's worried about a coma. If angels can even have those."

Dean scoffed lightly, Bobby never did beat around the bush.

"Can angels even get coma's? Wow."

"Son," Bobby paused.

Dean was finally coming around to the real world, Sam hadn't been mentioned publicly to him in more than a forever, those who knew him were very careful about what they said. Mentioning Lucifer always put him on edge. The remaining Winchester had been buried in his own sorrow for far too long and no one wanted to send him spiraling back by saying something too harshly. "Castiel… he's been, more vulnerable for awhile now. Never this bad but he has been. I don' think his siding with us has won him any favors upstairs, and as far as I can hear the angels ain't doin' so hot."

Dean swallowed, he felt like the entire camp heard that stone crawl down his throat. "I see. So even the angels are losing?" Dean coughed again. "Could you check on the camp?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Bobby sighed and tossed his flask, now refilled, it making a smooth arc before landing at the foot of Castiel's bed.

"Yeah."

He waited until he couldn't hear the squeaks of the wheel before getting up and shutting the door, nodding for the last remaining people in the building to clear out. He watched out of the window as they dispersed, before moving back to the chair he had pulled up next to Castiel's bed. He grabbed the flask and started chugging, trying to chase away the burning in his eyes and the void in his chest.

"You really are a stupid son of a bitch," he whispered, staring at the make-shift cast around his angels arm. The box had been torn up, at least for now until he could mend it back together with his usual tactics. "I told you I'd ruin you." And Dean sat there for hours, staring at the soft rise and fall of Castiel's chest, the loud beeps of the heart monitor they had hooked up to him. He made a mental note to make sure replacement parts were included on the next trip. Every time he heard those beeps his entire body fought to get up and destroy something. Whatever had happened had to be big, the damage too great. He spent the rest of the night whispering apologies and drunken confession of pain before finally getting up and stumbling out of the building. Dean managed to make it to his own cabin before he finally fell, landing in his bed and clutching tight to the flask Bobby had given him. This really was the end of the world, and he didn't know how much more of a part he could play in it.

When Castiel awoke, he was lost. And confused. The first thing he registered was the invasive feeling of something sharp and long in his veins. His breath quickened in panic, he felt smothered and restrained. Before he could manage to move around so much he felt a hand on his shoulder. 'Dean' he thought, but then immediately realized that it did not have that special tingle that he received from his touch. Fighting through the haze he tried his best to concentrate on the figure gripping his shoulder. A shudder of a breath escaped him as he struggled into consciousness.

"You're awake!" the person exclaimed in relief. Castiel could only give a small grunt of confirmation that he was coherent before having his head sink further into the pillow under him in exhaustion. "Don't move, I'll get Dr. Whiskey and the others."

Cas gave a small whine of pain as the person next to him moved too fast and jolted his arm, jostling what he felt like was a puddle of pain inside of his arm. Slowly gathering his thoughts together he tried to figure out where he was. After his eyes adjusted to the prickling light that was attacking his eyes he found he recognized a few objects. Their infirmary. He had brought enough people here to recognize it so quickly. He wasn't sure how long he'd spent fighting the haze but eventually he heard a familiar squeak of wheels and timid footsteps.

"Mr. Comatose awakens."

Castiel couldn't help but smile at Bobby's voice. He attempted to speak, but all he got out was a dry whine from his throat and a loud crack in his voice.

"Water, he needs water," a softer voice said. Chuck. Chuck had made it safely, he had been worried he'd dropped them from too high up and too quickly. He felt something cold pushed against his lips and at their instruction began drinking. It felt almost like a glimpse of heaven.

"What happened?" he finally croaked out after a few cups of water and one cup of something sweeter, he thought it had honey in it.

"You've been out for a few months now," he heard Bobby say as he finally managed to regain his vision. As he listened to a brief explanation of events his eyes roamed across the ward and finally to himself and all the tubes coming in and out of his body as well as the wrappings squeezed around his limbs.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," he said once the story was over. An awful feeling he had come to identify as what humans called "uselessness" enveloped him. He wondered how many set backs he'd caused by being out of commission for so long.

"Oh shut up," Bobby said wheeling himself closer, "you needed some rest. Should've told someone you were past your limits you idjit."

"I thought I could handle more," he said solemnly as he attempted to sit up more. Everything felt so slow. "What is wrong with me?"

"You've got a ton of drugs in your system right now, they put a bit heavier of a dosage than they would to human beings in you since you seem to have a much faster metabolism even when knocked out," Chuck explained. "You gave us all quite the scare man."

Castiel nodded still a little lost. "Dean?"

"He's fine. Been out for a while now. Should be coming back at some point," Bobby muttered.

After that night, the night that Dean had sat next to Castiel's bed the man had more or less disappeared, fire in his gut and anger in his eyes. He checked in, made sure the camp was running smoothly and did what he could but never stayed more than necessary in the area. The hunt was on and the news of a few more lost cities hadn't helped anyone. Chuck's personal opinion was that he was running from something, but he kept that to himself. It wasn't that he had publicly run away, but every job and every lead on the colt (which had gotten around the camp; who didn't want to go after something that might be able to kill the devil) that took him as far away from the camp and Cas as he could reach he took. No one but Bobby and Chuck paid it any mind, but then again no one knew of how much these people had gone through together, and the sacrifices that the little angel laying in their shit for an excuse hospital wing had done for that one little human being.

"Oh."

Castiel did not say much else after that as he was recovering, at least not until Dean made his first visit to the angel. Dean was satisfied he was alive but had found excuses not to be near the camp until they were stretching to the end of the winter season. They needed to regroup and they'd finally gotten word from other settlements. A few of them had wanted to take a look at theirs, especially the ones that knew the Winchester name from his father's legacy. He was grateful that for now Sam being Lucifer's prom dress hadn't reached anyone. Which, while he was thankful for, he found strange. After almost three years of hell on earth he figured there'd be something out there. More morbidly he'd thought that no one probably lived to tell the tale. He was okay with that. He also had news for Bobby, the grapevine told him that Ellen, Jo, and Rufus were alive and kicking. They'd taken off into different corners of the the great U.S. of A but settlements were springing up as more people took off to the countryside. Cities were filled with guns and poison.

He'd heard for the most part Cas had healed. His shattered bones had, with help of his grace, mended themselves perfectly to their original state (although he was still working on re-creating all the lost blood cells) and he was coherent and able to participate in conversation and planning, even if the doctors had confined him to the limits of the hospital building. A fainting spell had revoked his wandering rights. Finally Dean could avoid it no longer and bit the bullet to visit him. He was back at the camp and it would seem out of place for him not to visit the angel now that he was awake.

"Hello Dean"

The only thing that ran through the hunters mind was that some things never change. The way Cas said his name never changed. That was comforting.

"Hey Cas."

For awhile neither of them knew what to say as they stared at each other, then again Dean was never one for many words and Castiel didn't have the skills to hold up a well placed human conversation yet. "So uh… you seem to be recovering," Dean finally mumbled.

"Yes. My body is recovering at an increasing angelic rate. I may have underestimated my abilities to help out but that will not happen again." And Dean couldn't help but let his smile slip into something bitter. Of course the first thing the angel would worry about was how they're cause was going, a cause he had forced this holy creature into. The guilt that he had been running from roared back to life again. Castiel noticed.

"Why are you cringing?"

Dean ran a hand across his face and pulled the chair that had been left near the bed closer and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring down at his loosely clasped hands. It had been a long time since he'd done the talking thing, been years since he was comfortable enough for their little confessional moments in the Impala, small as they were. He wasn't sure if he still could do that, and knew damn well he didn't want to.

"Dean?"

A small laugh made its way out of Dean's body. He glanced up briefly taking in the expression in those very blue eyes but looking away as fast as he could. His eyes scared him. For one he felt like looking into them for too long would give Cas access to the nut house that was his brain, and for two, there was too much in the angel's eyes. Somewhere along the line, one of the other things he had failed to notice; Cas had started displaying a wide range of emotions. He was used to wise, old eyes, mildly curious, and capable of only glimpses of love, regret, and sadness. In those blue eyes he saw loneliness and a mild spark of hope that glittered the way only a human beings eyes can. Dean clasped his hands together tighter, he knew why the loneliness was there, that was his fault too. It had been months that Cas had been awake and he had been too big of a coward to be at his side when he woke up, they were best friends if nothing else, and Cas had no one else left. Bitterness swept across his once more, and Cas had too kind of a heart (especially towards him) to ever ask or point that out, he would've waited quietly and in pain forever for him to come back.

"When do you think you'll be back on your feet and flying around?" Dean asked finding something practical and solid to focus on, finally looking up. He frowned as he saw a part of Cas lock away and polite, neutral expression make its way to the angels features. It'd be dumb to share his thoughts. Besides, wouldn't Cas be fighting anyway? '_Not if you'd said yes' _crept into the back of his mind. He stamped the thought down and tried not to vomit. No. He couldn't spiral now.

"I am gaining more of my power back every day. It should be only a few more days before I can be of use," Cas replied evenly.

Dean made a mental note to give himself a swift kick in the ass if he ever had the opportunity. "That's not what I meant Cas. I just now from a few trips being stuck in a hospital bed for forever is not fun. I'd think you'd wanna stretch your wings a little bit and move around. Go outside ya know, do stuff," he finished awkwardly with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, looking out of the window that was a little further away from the bed.

"Oh," Cas said and a small, very pleased smile spread over his lips as he curled his hands around the blanket in his lap. "Good." Dean looked up and felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He had never seen that expression on Cas's face. It was very shy, as if he wasn't sure if he should be doing it, and filled with… he couldn't quite place a finger on it but something that resembled unabashed happiness, and it was fucking adorable. "You are correct in that assumption. My apologies for being so strategically focused. I am eager to get out of this bed and be healed, I do not enjoy this human slow healing, or being cold. I have found that I really dislike the sensation."

Dean laughed and a little bit of pressure eased inside of him. He didn't know if it was laughing itself that did it or the fact that he hadn't completely butchered everything about Cas. It was funny how just a few words could ease the anxieties. Dean wasn't going to jinx it by saying it out loud or saying it to himself, but he trusted Cas and he had never failed him, never would.

"Yeah, there are definitely better sensations to experience. Here," he said as he went to grab a second blanket and carefully placed it over Cas tucking in the edges a little bit as he had done when Sam was a kid and sick. Their hands brushed as he did so and Castiel reacted on impulse, letting go of the sheet and taking Dean's hand into his own. Panicked green eyes shot up at him and although his body did not stop tensing up his eye soften a bit at the look in Cas's eyes. He couldn't exactly yank his hand away when the look in those eyes had begun to fill with one of the best feelings anyone could experience, safety.

"I also do not like sleeping," he admitted after they had stared at each other for awhile, "I find it unsettling and dark and sometimes I see glimpses of things that do not make sense."

"Those were dreams Cas," he said feeling unsettled once more. Angels don't sleep or dream. Castiel noticed this and gripped Dean's hand tighter.

"I am still an angel Dean, I have not fallen. I am simply 'low on battery'," he said, smiling at his ability to use a human phrase. It also pleased him that this made Dean laugh and his shoulders relax some of the tension in them. "I worry their from my..." Cas let the sentence trail off and fixed his eyes to the ceiling. The other angels. Right.

"Okay… all right," he said with a nod, "uhm, you should probably get more rest, those dark circles under your eyes need to go." A frown spread across Cas's face. 'Oh yeah,' Dean mentally gave himself a slap 'sleeping scared him.' "Hey man, you need to sleep if you wanna get to doing that stretching your wings thing. It's not like you had trouble sleeping before?"

Cas's frown deepened as he took his hand away from Dean's. "It was not the same. It did not feel like falling into a dark void and I did not have 'dreams' of co-eds and sweet things. My visions are unsettling and do not contain pleasant things."

'Nightmares,' Dean thought. Those he was very familiar with. He couldn't even begin to imagine what a few thousand years of living would give as fodder for those dreams. "You on any medication right now?"

Cas tilted his head confused as to what this had to do with their conversation, "A little bit of hydrocodone. Two little white pills, I do not recall much more."

Dean nodded, he knew a little bit about drugs, prescription or not. Bouncing around high schools as a kid had exposed him to a lot. He took out his flask, "Here. Take a few swigs, but no more. Although really with your angelic tolerance you could probably go through a bottle and still be fine. It takes a bit of the sting of those nightmares away."

Castiel took the flask and took a few drinks but did not seem convinced. He handed it back and dropped his hands back to the bed spread. Those little blue eyes looked far too lost for Dean's comfort. He walked across the infirmary, noticing the little stiffness that built its way into Cas's shoulders. "Relax buddy," he said as he grabbed a pillow and a random magazine they had lying around, and walked back to the bed. He tossed it onto the chair he had as he sat down moving the chair to where he could comfortably tilt it backwards and put his feet up. "My fine ass just needed something comfier if I'm gonna be here for awhile."

"Dean I don't quite understand."

"You said sleeping scares you right? Well I'll be right here, I can wake you up if I see the nightmares get too bad that way you can get more actual rest," he said gruffly flipping through the magazine in his hands. "We gotta get you out of bed as fast as you can, you're kinda needed around the camp so you need sleep, someone has to make sure that happens." 'Yeah, this is strategic, not you being a gigantic fruit and wanting to take care of him' Dean told his brain as he took a sip from the flask making a mental note to refill it first thing in the morning.

Castiel smiled to himself and settled into his bed and the layers of blankets. Sleeping seemed a little less scary, and the warm thrum of Dean's soul next to him swept a warmth over him that he felt no cold could penetrate.

**END PT 2 **

**A/N: **Don't always expect updates this fast. Some of this is already written and I'm just dusting through it. Let me know if there's a scene or something you wanna see play out and I'll see what I can do. It's really interesting going back to one of the FIRST supernatural stories I ever wrote (if not **the **first, I think it might be) and getting back into it. [/Don't worry, Alibi is still being updated, just working through a writer's block.] It's also fun adding new stuff to this version that wasn't in the original. Wohoo, still no beta.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

Dean tried to keep his eyes on the magazine he had picked out but their reading selection wasn't exactly top notch. If they were ever going to turn this into a serious refugee camp they'd have to get a little entertainment in. Even soldiers needed something to smile about.

He started to get bored quickly and his gaze kept darting back to the rising and falling movements of the chest on the bed next to him. The little angels hair was tussled and slightly pinned to his face where his head had rolled over onto the pillow. There was also a small, pleased curve to his lip, not quite big enough to be called a smile. So far there hadn't been any sign of nightmares and for that Dean was especially grateful. He'd seen enough of Cas in pain to last him a life time and some change. Dean took one last glance at the magazine in his lap and tossed it down onto a small side table with a huff, he'd have to see to it that they get new material sometime soon. He let his chair fall back down to all four legs and leaned back towards Cas, lifting one scarred hand over Cas's healing one. All the bruising had faded from them months ago while Dean had been busy running, but he still remembered vividly the mangled appearance of the body that first night he had rushed to his side.

Knowing that there was no one around to watch him, and that the angel in question was out like a light, he gently brushed his thumb across Cas's knuckles and allowed himself a moment of tenderness to spread through his soul and through his eyes. "That was a close one wasn't it Cas?" he whispered to himself, his grip tightening a little. Although the fact that he was healing at a steadily increasing rate there was a new weight and goal in Dean's spine. Cas was just about the only thing left, well not entirely, but to the irrational strength and level that Sam had been to him. He still cared for Bobby of course, no one could replace him as a Father figure, but it was different. When that thought came to him the first time in a dark motel room, as he stitched together his arm, he had felt guilty. Like he was betraying his real family, but with every stitch the truth became clearer to him. He was an idiot for one, and hadn't Cas earned his place in their family a long time ago? It was that realization that had forced him back to camp, and the pressure from others to walk into the infirmary.

"I won't let you go through this again, not on my watch," he promised to the unconscious man in front of him.

His back was starting to ache however and his stomach was starting to make those little dying whale sounds. Dean tried to fight it down, pacing the room a little. He had promised Cas that he would be here, but the steady increase in displeased noises and cramps was not making it easy. Dean stretched his shoulders and decided he could risk walking to the porch of their little hospital to see if there was anyone walking by he could get to bring him something from the mess hall. To his luck Yagger was making a patrol of the camp grounds as he stepped out. Dean flagged him down and the other man smiled walking up the steps to shake their relatively elected leaders hand (relatively since Cas and Bobby had the main run of the place).

"How's our resident angel doing?" he asked as he pulled out a cigarette, offering one to Dean who after a furtive glance accepted it, the apocalypse was giving him some very bad habits back. He hadn't lit up in a long time.

"He's recovering, as far as I can tell. I didn't get much time with him before he passed out," Dean muttered as he fished out his zippo from his jacket pocket. He tossed it to Yagger once he had his lit.

"Good. He gave us all a damn scare when we found him practically skewered by that car."

Dean takes a slow drag off of his cigarette, "Skewered?"

"No one told you?"

"No, but I don't remember asking," he says once more ashamed of himself. This running away bull shit was going to have to stop. Yeah, he'd ganked a few hellish sons-of-bitches on the way but his running around the country wasn't doing jack to help anyone. Especially himself. Drunken night or not, he was his best and closest friend. He couldn't remember once throughout his life as a hunter being able to truly call someone that and yet he always found a way to fuck it up more. "Bobby gave me some vague details but that's about it."

Yagger nodded and flicked his cigarette, knocking ash off of it, "That trip with Chuck," Dean made a noise of agreement, he did know that detail, "actually went downright dandy, especially with what our odds had been going in. A few of us landed first with the prophet, but we had too many passengers and those hex boxes to carry so he went back. Next thing I know there's Donald and Lewinski spitting out dirt next to me but no angel. We go lookin' for him and that prophet of yours find him. I'll tell you man," he pauses to fill his lungs as full as he can of the smoke, then giving a sharp exhale, "I would've called him dead on the spot."

Dean's shoulders stiffened and he fought the attempt to roll them or show the other man just how much that thought affected him. "So?" he prompts instead.

"His head had gone straight through the windshield in that little car graveyard we have out there," he pointed with his cigarette, "cracked into the steering wheel. Doc said it was the only thing that stopped him from flying straight into the floorboard and through the metal which would've ripped his body to shreds. The metal of the hood was warped and punched into his body." Yagger shook his head trying to rid himself of the memory, "that's moot point now tho'. The kid's a fighter, seems to be making it through just fine."

Dean nodded and as Yagger was about to leave, with a lazy salute, his stomach shook him out of his thoughts and reminded him why he stepped out in the first place. "Hey, wait. You think you could do me favor? I'm on angel watch and I'm itching for some food. Think you could find someone to drop some off for me?" Yagger nodded at him and Dean stepped back inside.

He walked slowly back to the bed and this time leaned in closer towards the angels face. Gently he moved the plastered and tussled locks of hair from Cas's forehead. His eyes darken and if not for his self control his hand might have shook. Sure enough, although the bruises had healed and bones had been mending, the head trauma described had probably been as horrendous as described. Along the hairline there was a long white jagged scar and as he gently tilted the angels face he caught glimpses of more nasty, hard lines along the once perfect face. This close to Cas he noticed that someone had been shaving him while he was out, otherwise there would be more to his stubble. (They had noticed that Cas's hair would start grow when he was extremely weakened.)

Dean stayed like that, gently looking over what damages he could get to, not wanting to disturb the angel's sleep. He only straightened himself and pulled back when he heard feet approach the cabin. On instinct he let his hand drift towards his firearm but relaxed as the scent of food slowly wafted towards him. It was a young woman, he'd only seen her a few times, but knew that she was a newer refugee and worked in the kitchen. She had shoulder length brown hair and body that usually would have had Dean inconspicuously checking his breath and preparing a line. She was still beautiful but it did nothing for him. The girl attempted to flirt him as she gave him the food, reminding him that in a few hours the sun would rise and he should get some sleep before then (the last part giving with a suggestive glance.) Instead of grinning and flirting back like some base instinct in him still wanted to, he simply thanked her for the food and the reminder of the time. She gave a small frown but recovered quickly, leaving him alone with Cas again. It wasn't like him to turn down company. As he ate his soup and watched the woman disappear into the darkness outside, he felt the first glow of pride like he hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't much but for Dean Winchester it was enough to have a part of his brain decide 'maybe this'll be okay. Maybe I can still do right by Cas.'

With those thoughts in mind he finished his soup and allowed himself to pull the chair closer to Cas's bed, letting his head rest on the soft mound of sheets he had gathered for Castiel, dozing off after a long day.

… … … …

Castiel woke to a bright light flickering against his closed eyes and a cool breeze against his face. He managed to crack on eye open enough to see that the window was open and the curtains were gently flapping with it. No immediate danger, he decided and let his head sink further into the pillow his eyes closing once more. As he tried to settle himself he found that he had difficulty moving his arms. Confused a small frown popped up on his face as he fought his eyes open again. A warmth flooded from his chest down to his stomach and he couldn't help a small relieved breath escaping him.

Dean's head was snug against his thigh and the soft even breaths told Cas that the hunter was fast asleep. The angel had always thought that he was beautiful, especially when he slept, and this was just as mesmerizing as any occasion. Watching him never got old. It helped that the sun was casting soft golden rays across the hunters face and making his hair light up in highlights, and outlining the soft curves of his face. And true it was breathtaking it was not what had warmed Cas's vessel so fully. It was the way that Dean's calloused hand had been tightly wrapped in his own. It was the most comfortable contact he'd had with the man since the incident while they still lived at Bobby's. It had bothered the angel that Dean had not come to see him but then he also understood him far better than anyone, enough to give him a little credit for his behavior. Cas had thought about other variations to Dean's dealing with it, perhaps a romantic profession of love as he assumed came next, or shy courting, or what he had learned from books and movies in his spare time to be a date but none of them seemed right. What had happened had been confusing, messy, hurtful, and beyond all that so very Winchester like.

As alone as he had felt, he had never really believed that Dean would abandon him completely. He only had to fight hard, do his job, and Dean would return in his own time. Looking at the human hand clasped in his own he felt that all of his confusion and patience had been worth it. Even if the hunter woke up and ran and fought it as he always did, he had these few moments, and angels had a knack for eidetic memory. He wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer but the world chose that moment to wake up, the loud racket of a gate opening in the distance startling Dean out of his sleep. His head flew up and Castiel straightened his back and schooled himself to something he hoped looked appropriate and neutral enough for Dean not to bolt. Even after living several hundreds and thousands of years he wondered how he still managed to get surprised, but then again Dean Winchester was involved.

Instead of jumping away and babbling, Dean gathered in his surroundings ,taking a look out of the window to where he could now see the gate in the distance, making sure everything was under control. He then turned to Cas, eyes widening surprised to see him awake, and then instead of yanking his hand away from Cas as he usually did (like the angels skin burned him tho' Cas could never find any marks), he squeezed it tightly and briefly.

"Hey Cas," he said his voice raspy from sleep.

"Hello Dean," he answered fighting to keep the level of tenderness out of his voice. "Thank you, for staying with me."

Dean smiled and finally slid his hand away from Cas's, unusually casual about it. "Oh shut it, you would've done the same for me. How you feeling?" he asked.

Castiel tilted his head in that adorable way he doesn't know makes Dean's affection for him grow and took inventory of his body's physical condition. He hears Dean laugh and the small light that manages to edge it's way into those exhausted and drained eyes fills Cas with that same warm sense of joy that it always does. Where there is light there is hope, and hope can conquer armies and hold cities up again the worst of odds. "You're the only guy I know who takes that question THAT seriously," he chuckled to himself, "focus on what you need. Pain meds? Food? The Doc?"

Castiel wanted to frown, feeling like Dean's making fun of him for his non-natural tendencies but let's it slide. "I believe Whiskey should take a look at my healing rate, some pain killers would be nice," he mumbled out finally after rubbing at his temples. "And food would be most excellent. If the doctor clears me from certain meds I will be able to consume more solid food again soon. I tire of soup," he finished making a face. Dean ignored the niggling in his brain about how human this conversation is and how it shouldn't be.

"All right, well, I'll just, be right back then," he fumbled out before turning away and leaving, Castiel watching him intently.

'See, not that awkward,' he told himself as he meandered his way out of the cabin, not having seen any of the main doctors in the welcome wing to the hospital. He had let the nurses know on his way out but decided to try and find one of their doctors just in case. Even if it wasn't an emergency he needed to walk around and stretch his legs after the nights vigil and would return after touching base with anything that had gone on during the night; groups that had returned. Dean made his way towards Bobby's cabin, that was always a good place to start and maybe he could make a request for some better reading material. The wood creaked under his weight as he made his way up the stairs, knocking briefly before walking in. Bobby was hunched over his desk scribbling away at something with vigor but otherwise... happy. Dean was a little thrown back by the expression, "Bobby?"

His head snapped up to fully pay attention to the man who'd walked in, "Cas doin' all right?"

"Yeah yeah, he's doing fine. Trying to find Whiskey or Foxtrot, but why are you so damn happy?" he asked pulling up a chair.

"You haven't seen them yet?" Bobby asked putting down his pen and wheeling himself backwards out of his desk and then out the door and down the ramp leaving Dean to jog to catch up with him. Who knew he could be so fast. "I told them that you'd spent the night in the infirmary and they were real excited to meet our resident angel, heard lots 'bout him but don't remember them ever meetin'."

Dean paused Bobby by catching him by the shoulder confused as all hell, and he'd only been up for about 30 minutes. "Woah-woah Bobby hold on. I am not following any of this, first of all whose them? Or They or whatever."

"I think you'd rather see them yourself," Bobby said with a satisfied cryptic smile. "Trust me, otherwise you won't quite want to believe it."

Something about how Bobby's voice went a little softer made Dean pick up his step on the way back to the hospital. He was about a minute or so in front of Bobby by the time they'd made it into the infirmary but that didn't stop the older hunter from almost crashing into Dean with his abrupt stop and frozen body. There were two figures next to Castiel, figures that looked more worn out than he remembered them. They hadn't noticed their entrance yet, talking with rapt attention to Castiel.

"You guys look good," he finally managed to force out, hands falling limp at his side.

The older woman turned around warmth flooding her eyes as she took deliberate steps towards him and wrapped him in a tight, crushing hug, "You too kid." She held on tightly and Dean clung to her with the same desperation, letting her go and turning to the still ever so lovely daughter.

"Hey Jo," he said with a crooked smile as she ran towards him, lept up and wrapped her slender arms around him. They shared the same warm and needy hug that he had with her mother. God, how could he have forgotten about them? How far up his ass had his head been? He pushed her away at arms length to really look at her. There were more scars on her than the last time they'd seen each other, she was older, though he wasn't sure if that was just age or the apocalypse taking its toll on all of them. He turned to look at Ellen, there were dark circles under her eyes, more wrinkles than he remembered her having and the same defeated look in the back of their eyes. He figured it'd be more prominent if the reunion weren't the first damn blessing in their miserable apocalypse lives. Dean's brain stuttered at that and swiftly gave him a kick. That wasn't entirely true. He released Jo completely and walked towards Cas who was laying in bed with his hands clasped together watching them with curious, neutral eyes. No, this was the first blessing in their apocalyptic lives. Cas wasn't dead.

"Hey I didn't get you all the stuff you wanted but I left a note, and then found Bobby," he said not even sure if he should be apologizing. "Cas, I'm sure you've heard us talk about them before but this is Ellen and Jo."

Cas smiled up at him, the double introduction amused him since they had just made their acquaintance on their own. "Yes, they are very good company," he said honestly with a nod in their direction. "We were just talking about how we are acquainted to you." Dean winced and hoped that Jo hadn't told him too many of the things he'd done while attempting to make her acquaintance back in the day.

"This is the angel then, huh?" Ellen asked walking back over to the bed Bobby in tow.

Dean nodded, "Yup, and just about the only one that manages to pass for stable and human compared to the rest of those dicks."

Cas frowned at this briefly but held his tongue, they were still his siblings and he wasn't quite happy with such blasphemous talk, although he could not help but agree with most of the assessments Dean had made of his brothers and sisters.

"Thanks for pulling him out of Hell," Ellen said with a crooked smile, "tho' I'll say his trip didn't give him any better manners top side." Dean glared at her and it took all of his self control not to tuck his arms together and pout.

"I doubt I could have made him sweeter if I'd tried," Castiel said, sharing in the joke, "but I do believe his petulant nature is a part of his innate charm and what has kept us all alive many-a times.."

'And there went some of the good mood,' Dean thought as their little reunion was interrupted by the reminder of the bleak reality they were living in. Bobby coughed into his fist, "Well, glad to have all of the remaining idjits' under one roof at least. We should get you two settled, I'm gonna assume ya'll can share a cabin." Bobby turned himself around and Ellen gave Dean one last squeeze before following him.

Jo lingered a second and waved bye to Castiel, who surprisingly waved a small bye back, "I'll come visit you when I can. I'm sure there are lots of 'Dean's kind of an idiot' stories we can swap." Dean swung his arm out to smack her across the shoulder but she bounced out of reach.

He turned back to Castiel with a glare, "that's not funny."

Castiel brought a hand to his face, expression turning to confusion. "I wasn't aware I was being funny. Emotions are an interesting thing," he said his voice lilting up in that drifty way it did when he was deep in thought. "I do like them tho', their souls are warm, not as warm as yours, but I enjoy being around them."

Dean simmered down and sat down in the chair again, "I do too Cas, I do too."

They sat in silence that grew more awkward by the second. It had been easier for Dean to admit to all of his new personal revelations when Cas was passed out. Now, awake, coherent, and in the morning light he wasn't sure what to do. 'Hey Cas, glad you didn't die, I realized it'd break a piece of me' didn't cut it. 'I'm terrified of losing you again so stay by my side forever' seemed too... just now, he was barely able to get through that thought without cringing at it. He was saved by Whiskey entering the room with a little clipboard in hand.

"Well Cas, it looks like your vitals have taken a shot through the roof for better," he commented pleased.

"I do feel more refreshed than I have in days," Castiel admitted taking his eyes off of Dean.

"It shows," he commented as he stepped forward and took a cursory glance at the wounds to see how they were healing. He lifted Cas's arm and gently moved it, pressing a bit at the wrapping, "Does this hurt?" Cas shook his head. "It looks like your bones are one the way to the mend then, I feel they're going to be fragile for awhile but it seems like you've gotten most of it healed up." And Cas had to agree, he flexed his arms and turned his wrists experimentally, even fidgeting with his feet. Other than some minor fatigue, itches, and his lingering human needs he would have to say that he was just about ready to get around to being helpful again, well, really helpful, not just a talking board. "Yesterday I would've told you that you've got at least another week ahead of you but looks like those spikes in your angel mojo are getting bigger, now I'd say you could be out of here within a few days, less if this keeps up."

Dean perked up at that, "Really? About damn time."

Whiskey huffed at that, "This is a minor miracle. We're all still reeling he's alive at all." Dean just glared at the man who shrugged his shoulders in response. There were still a few people around who were not intimated by Dean, tho' to the hunters credit the good doctor had never been on the receiving end of how scary he could get. "I'd tack this sudden jump up to rest, this is the first night you've slept properly in months. A few more nights of that kind of rest and judging by what we've studied so far your natural healing properties should kick in with essentially a higher rate. The deeper and calmer the sleep the faster you heal, or so we've noted." He raised his eyebrow in question towards Castiel, trying to gather if their research and observations were true.

"I would have to agree. I have noted in the past that I feel much more refreshed after sleep. I have never had the chance to observe it for this long of a time however, there are not many times where I have been exhausted of my reserves as such," Castiel replied after thinking it over. He wasn't even sure if different angels had different rates if put under such a prolonged time period of weakness. Cas found himself wishing that he had other angels to talk to.

"Well, keep it up and we'll have you out of here in no time," Whiskey said patting Cas's leg and walking off.

And just like that the atmosphere was back. Still unable to think of anything of worth to say Dean defaulted to the conversation with the doctor. "Sleep huh? That's all it needed to get the little bad ass angel of the Lord out of bed?" he joked. "Should've been knocking you out with pills a long time ago."

Cas raised his eyebrow at Dean, "I'm afraid you may have missed the part where I had been unable to sleep and medication has so far proven an insufficient aid to slumber."

Dean leaned back against the chair, "I guess; what's changed then? Just juiced up enough to knock yourself out?" Cas gave him a long stare before letting his eyes drift over to the window where they remained, anything he would have to say he feared would make the hunter uncomfortable and he was not quite yet ready for Dean to bolt out of his life again. Dean waited for an answer and his mind clicked in with a soft 'oh' as he finally caught up with himself. The difference was, he had been there. Or maybe it had been the alcohol, if he'd had any denial left in his body to spare he would've pinned it on that, but he was fresh out so I guess he had to face a truth for once. But like the rest of their conversation topics there was nothing he could say, or at least was ready to say so a small silence lapsed between them again.

"So, you get out in a few days right?" Dean tried, having attempted to just get up and leave but his muscles felt heavy and legs glued to the ground; like while his mind couldn't quite deal with the situation, his body knew exactly what he was doing. Which he couldn't really argue with, most of skill came from finely tuned reflexes. It probably wasn't too bad of an idea to trust them in a non-fight situation.

"Correct, hopefully sooner," Cas said not turned away from the window.

Dean took a small breath, ran his hand down the back of his neck, "Well, I'm not planning on heading out for a few days. Have to get some camp stuff done, after that, well. I've known you the longest and I can trust you the best to have my back. There are a few rumors I need to check out and I could use the back up." 'There, that wasn't so hard' a part of Dean said to him, patting him on the back 'that almost sounded like you really cared.' 'Shut it' is all he shot back to that pesky part of him. But it had the desired reaction.

Cas turned and finally looked the hunter in the eye, blue eyes bright and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips that he seemed to be fighting off. "Of course Dean. I will try and make my recovery as speedy as possible. I would be more than happy to accompany you."

Dean stood up and turned his eyes away from that serene, blissful face. He still couldn't quite be comfortable with the amount of devotion in those eyes and how happy a request for back up into relatively mortal danger made him. "All right, well good," he said in a gruff voice standing up, "I'll let you have your rest then. Gotta get moving as fast as possible." He tried not to look at Cas as he attempted to make a hasty exist but that gorgeous raspy voice made him stop.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Dean turned around and found a heat rise to his face at the expression the angel wore. He swore to himself and prayed that his tender reaction to it wouldn't leak out, prayed that Cas's senses were too worn to really peek into him. But the damn man just looked so hopeful. "I'll be back tonight," he grumbled walking out without a second look back. He hunched his shoulders and once again made his way to Bobby's building, wishing he could put Cas right back in that box in the back of his head, but knowing he couldn't. At the very least he took comfort in the fact that he hadn't taken everything out of the box yet, and hopefully he wouldn't start sharing with the class anytime soon. But Dean's nagging self knew better, nothing was ever that simple or easy.

Barely two days had passed and on the evening of the second day as Dean came to check up on him, Castiel was already dressed and standing at the door, thanking a nurse and holding a small bundle of personal belongings in his hand. If Dean had been a girl, he might have run up and thrown his arms around him. Instead, he settled for a huge grin plastered over his face as he waited for Cas to notice him. A few thank you's and good byes later Cas trot down the small set of stairs, taking a B line towards the hunter, a satisfied expression on his face as well but no more. Although it was a sign of his increasing mortality, Dean found that he missed some of the more expressive sides that Castiel let out when he was more drained. Not that it mattered too much, he already knew a lot of the angels usual stoic reactions, he would just have to try harder to find the emotions he saw in the hospital bed under that mask. He was about to give a smarmy remark but his eyes caught on something around Castiel's neck that shone in the evening sunlight. It took him a second to register what it was, and when he did his breath caught in his throat.

Cas looked down at what was dangling around his neck. The 'God' finder necklace. He brought two slender fingers up to it, running it across the smooth metal. He had forgotten about it in his eagerness to see Dean. Usually he kept it tucked under his layers of shirts. Back in the first few days of when their horror began, he had attempted to give it back to Dean who had just thrown it in the trash in a fit of emotion. The angel had known better than to bring it up again, but was also wise enough to know that it should be kept safe. He closed his fingers around it, breaking the eye contact Dean was having with it and bringing those sunlit green eyes back to his own. "I apologize, I should have been more careful."

It took Dean a few moments of their usual staring contest to speak. It had been a long time since he'd seen that. He was sure he'd thrown it away. "You found it?"

"I was there when you threw it away Dean. It was not hard to do."

Something inside Dean curled a little, 'of course he was'. He knew there was a huge blur, a massive black out in his life that he would never get full memory of. The only vague flashes he had was of the angel and bathrooms where he spent many nights throwing up his feelings. Usually he tried to ignore that, ashamed, and still too raw about why he had started that binge to focus on it but he couldn't quite ignore just how much Cas had done for him during that time.

"Do you want it back?" Cas asked tentatively, taking a somewhat defensive stance. Another small notch slid into place, he really did not like how nervous and almost scared the angel had become. That he would throw a fit and run off again, which, he told himself, was his own damn fault since that is exactly what he'd been doing for near 3 years.

"No," he replied evenly. Cas's eyes dropped for a second but before he let the angel make any more assumptions he continued, "I can't... take that. At least not yet. Hold onto to it for me. Keep it safe." 'Keep Sammy's memory safe' was the unspoken addition. Castiel nodded, a little more relaxed and tucked the necklace back under his shirt, vowing to be more careful with it. Although he couldn't deny he was pleased at the progress that had been made since Dean's last encounter with such a raw memory of his brother.

"Well seeing as you're up and around we might as well get going. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us, get packed and meet me at the gates."

"Of course, I will be there shortly," Cas replied watching Dean's stiff back as he walked off. He felt sinfully hopeful about what he next few weeks might be like for them and could only muster up a little bit of concern that he wasn't too terribly bothered by that.

**End Part 3**

**Small Note; This may go up to 7-8 parts. I've realized there's a bit more that I keep fleshing out even tho' I should keep it short and simple, but I try and section off good flow points the best I can. I just really dig thinking about how they would've built each other up and really want to get me some hippy!Cas angst and Dean being a dick!angst. **

**Also, something I've never noticed mentioned in most Croat fics, Ellen and Jo. 'cause they don't die until that first show down with Lucifer's peeps, so they had to be around for some of it at least, no way Bobby and them wouldn't have gone lookin' for 'em. **


End file.
